A Contract for Oliver
by Flying Penguinz
Summary: Myrnin gets really bored and goes to bother Oliver, making him a contract that says a bunch of stuff in minuscule writing that Oliver doesn't read through all the way. The hippie will learn the error of his non-reading ways soon.


**11:00 a.m.: Myrnin's Lab**

"It's so _early_," Myrnin groaned. "I don't know _what_ to do. Teatime with Amelie is in…" Myrnin checked his watch. "…_Four_ _hours._ How am I supposed to _survive_ four hours without something to do?" He put the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically.

Myrnin had already finished his experiment, which had taken only two hours; had already written in his journal about the two-hour experiment; had already drank some blood while reflecting on the fifteen-minute journal entry on his two-hour experiment; and had read five Shakespearean sonnets aloud.

It had been a damn productive morning, indeed. But, as it was eleven o'clock and Amelie's tea visit was at three, Myrnin had hours of space to fill up.

He sighed. Being productive was hard.

Myrnin wished he owned a horse. Then he could go riding around Morganville at night. Perhaps then he could become somewhat of a legend in Morganville: The Headed Horseman. He nodded to himself. If only he knew where to _find _a horse. Could he order one online?

A while ago, Claire had shown him this genius way of buying things so he didn't have to leave the comforts of his own home. He could even buy things all the way from China and not have to get up from his laptop.

Would he get a Chinese horse? A Russian carriage? An English outfit to go with it all?

He would get them _all._

Myrnin got his little lap computer and eventually made his way to the Interwebs after playing a game of virtual solitaire. Technology these days—terribly distracting.

He searched '_Chinese horses_' and only came up with little statuettes. He then tried different words because perhaps the computer hadn't fully comprehended his search entry. '_Chinese horses for sale_' brought up an eBay '_Bid on Chinese Horses Now!_' link thing.

Well, bidding wasn't too hard, was it? Myrnin had all the money one person could possibly want for just one Chinese horse.

**12:08 p.m.: Myrnin's Lab**

Closing his laptop and feeling very proud, Myrnin reflected on how well-spent this money was going to be. He'd bid on _six_ Chinese horses, two Russian carriages (in case one broke), several English ensembles to wear while on his evening outings reining terror on the people of Morganville, an authentic sword, some lovely women clothes Myrnin found that looked like something Ada would wear, and a book all about Unicorns and the threat they could possibly pose on society.

…He'd gotten a bit distracted. Like he had said before: Technology was quite distracting. But then he remembered Ada was no longer here. Which made him a bit sad. To make himself feel better, he ate some chocolate ice cream.

Well, if that wasn't productivity, he didn't know what was. Fifty thousand dollars for all of that wasn't too much, now, was it? Not at all, in Myrnin's eyes.

Anyway, now he had to think of what to do as he waited for his parcels to arrive.

As if the gods were seeing Myrnin in their favor, a ray of light fell onto a stopwatch sitting on Myrnin's lab table. He knew what he was going to do.

**12:15 p.m.: Oliver's Office in Common Grounds**

"So, Oliver, you're saying you never waste any time? You're _always_ doing something beneficial for Morganville society? You _never_ stray from the focus of work?" asked Myrnin, waving a contract in Oliver's face.

The fluorescent lights were harsh and made the hippie's facial appearance even less appealing than usual, making Myrnin desperately wanted to hide far away from the ugly man, behind his clipboard he'd brought, but he refused to show weakness. Myrnin was strong.

"Myrnin, I shouldn't have to tell you more than once," Oliver said, biting into an apple, throwing his feet on his desk as Myrnin's nose was wrinkled in distaste. "I'm always busy."

"Very well. Then you must sign this contract stating that what you think is the truth," Myrnin said with a slight smirk.

Oliver's eyes narrowed at the challenge. "Fine. Hand it over." He pulled out a fountain pen and looked over the contract Myrnin had scribbled down on the scrap paper with a picture of a bunny he'd drawn all by himself on the back.

Myrnin's smirk grew more profound as Oliver began writing his name in his up-to-par-with-a-seven-year-old's handwriting.

Myrnin was using his genius exceptionally well today. Myrnin's genius understood that nobody really reads a full page of a contract so Oliver knew only bits and pieces of all that was written on that page. Oliver had no idea of the full extent of terms he was agreeing to.

Oliver finished signing and handed back the paper. "There."

"Now, you must work."

He looked confused. "What?"

"To prove your whole twenty-four hours are full of productivity."

"I already signed a contract, Myrnin, what more do I have to do?"

Myrnin rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "_Anyone_ can sign a contract saying they work all day, you buffoon. But now"—he pulled out a stopwatch from his vest pocket—"I shall monitor your usage of time." A smug look crossed his face.

"And if I don't agree to this ridiculous notion?" Oliver crossed his arms.

Myrnin raised an amused brow and flashed Oliver the contract. "You already did. 'Twas in the contract." He started the stopwatch.

"What are you doing?" Oliver snarled as his expression grew angry.

"Timing you. You're not doing any work. You have your feet on your desk, your arms are folded, you're looking at me, and you haven't even got a pencil in your hand. I suggest you start doing something beneficial for Morganville, Oliver. You're wasting precious time."

"I—"

Myrnin waved the stopwatch in his face and Oliver ceased his talking. He took his feet off of his desk and began click-clacking away on the computer. Myrnin stopped it and recorded twenty-seven-point-two seconds on his clipboard.

"So, Oliver, what're you doing?"

Oliver stopped and glared at Myrnin, but Myrnin was quick and started the timer again. Oliver picked back up where he left off as his eyes swirled red. Myrnin thought the computer screen might break from the force of Oliver's stare.

"Are you doing real work?" Myrnin asked pleasantly.

"I'm working on—" The beep of the stopwatch halted Oliver in his sentence and he began typing faster.

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk_. Point five seconds."

**4:37 p.m.: A Table in Common Grounds **

"Oliver! You intolerable corruption of nature! Your virginal ways are not allowed in this workplace!"

University students stared, but Myrnin chuckled as Oliver just poured another espresso shot into a cup.

"Congratulations," Myrnin said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder harder than necessary. "You barely even reacted."

"Myrnin?" a serene voice asked him.

He looked up. _What the hell was Amelie doing in Common Grounds?_

"A-Amelie?"

Amelie was standing in the doorway of this tacky coffee shop in all of her icy glory looking quite surprised to see Myrnin there with a stopwatch praising Oliver.

Oliver dropped what he was doing, ran to the Founder's side, took her arm, and dragged her to his office. Myrnin followed just after he'd started the stopwatch again. This counted as counterproductive for sure.

When Oliver and Amelie were seated and Myrnin was lurking about in the corner with the timer ticking away, Oliver began his rant—just like Myrnin knew he would need to do eventually.

"He won't leave me alone, Amelie," said Oliver as sweat beaded on his forehead. "He's like—he's like a silent killer. Just—he contaminates the air and will kill us all slowly." Myrnin noticed Oliver's hands were shaking.

Amelie sighed deeply. "Why can't you two just be _friends_? After _years_ of being together, you still cannot find it in you to simply be _kind_ to one another?"

Myrnin kneeled next to where Amelie was seated and placed his hand over hers on the armrest.

"I've tried to be his friend, Amelie. But trying to befriend him is like trying to befriend an evil, pious, heartless judge without a conscience."

"I resent that statement!" Oliver objected.

Myrnin noticed something odd about Amelie. She wasn't chuckling dryly. Didn't she always chuckle dryly when he and Oliver were going at it?

"What's wrong, Amelie? You look quite forlorn."

"I am well, Myrnin. I just was expecting—"

"Are you sick? Is it allergies? Were you crying? Did—"

"No, Myrnin, it's just—"

"DID OLIVER _TOUCH_ YOU?"

A thick silence passed through the room as Myrnin wondered if Amelie was going to rip off his balls.

"I would _never_," Oliver said, straightening in his seat indignantly.

"You would, too," Myrnin added as an aside. "Oliver," Myrnin said, "Amelie is in a healthy relationship with a dead man and she doesn't need _you_ ruining it."

"Myrnin!" Amelie stood. "I've had enough of this. Your disrespect—yours as well, Oliver—is what is causing me to leave now. I came to find you, Myrnin, to say that you missed our teatime. But I shall leave. You two, sort this out. I'm done dealing with your nonsensical arguments. Sooner or later, I will put an end to one of you. Only time will tell which one it shall be." Amelie then stepped through a portal and disappeared.

"She'll kill you," Myrnin said casually, yet surely. "She's _my_ best friend."

Oliver rose abruptly and his eyes once again turned red. "Get out. Get out before I kill you _myself._"

"Really, Oliver. What nonsense. You couldn't—"

Myrnin leapt out of the way just in time to see Oliver crash into a file cabinet in his pitiful attempt to attack him. What a moron.

Myrnin stood over Oliver showing him the contract as he said, "You know, old _friend_, clause three-point-five states that you will be taking blame for every fault that does Amelie or Morganville wrong. And the penultimate paragraph deftly explains that if you fail to understand the terms and agreements, all of your power goes to me."

Oliver took the contract from Myrnin's hands and read it over. "How did I not see this?"

"I left all the important stuff in the middle. Nobody ever _really _reads the middle of contracts." Myrnin looked over the clipboard in his hands with all of Oliver's nonproductive times. "Dear me… It seems you have wasted twenty minutes total in this whole day. So… you lose. Oh, you also have to care for my horses that are being shipped to me."

And Myrnin left through a portal, letting Oliver stew over his fate.


End file.
